


The Floor is Lava

by AughtPunk



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, Moira "NO FUN ALLOWED" O'Deorain, Overwatch is made of dorks, the floor is lava
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-15
Updated: 2019-05-15
Packaged: 2020-03-06 00:36:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18840025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AughtPunk/pseuds/AughtPunk
Summary: Moria knew working with Blackwatch would be far from a normal job. Being approached by a war hero, a cowboy, and a cyborg really set the scene for her. Overwatch was somehow worse, what with the talking gorilla and that poor pilot unstuck in time. They were also so damn cheery all of the time and therefore instantly on Moira’s bad side. So she did her best to avoid the lighter side of the organization and stick to her lab, thank you very much.Until the worst case scenario happened.She ran out of coffee.





	The Floor is Lava

**Author's Note:**

> Written originally for Overskins Zine

Moria knew working with Blackwatch would be far from a normal job. Being approached by a war hero, a cowboy, and a cyborg really set the scene for her. Overwatch was somehow worse, what with the talking gorilla and that poor pilot unstuck in time. They were also so damn cheery all of the time and therefore instantly on Moira’s bad side. So she did her best to avoid the lighter side of the organization and stick to her lab, thank you very much.

Until the worst case scenario happened. 

She ran out of coffee. 

The cowboy drank the last of it. She knew it. That anachronistic bastard used the last of their supplies all the time and never filled out the proper paperwork. Which meant it was up to her, again, to search through the squeaky clean corridors of Overwatch in search of coffee. Luckily Moira knew someone on the inside, someone just as dependent on that wicked brew. Unfortunately Dr. Angela Ziegler wasn’t at her desk or on duty.

Good thing that Angela was a creature of habit. Moira had learned early on that if Angela wasn’t in the infirmary then she was certainly napping on the rec room couch, an impressive feat considering the rec room tended to be filled to the brim with only the loudest agents Overwatch had to offer. So she went there next, making sure to raise her voice high enough to be heard over whatever chaos lay within as she stepped inside. “Dr. Ziegler, I wish to speak--”

“DON’T TOUCH THE FLOOR!” 

Moira barely had the time to comprehend the sheer wall of noise that hit her before she found herself on top of a mini-fridge next to the doorway. She curled up tight, hugging her knees against her chest in a desperate attempt to make herself as small as possible. When nothing exploded Moira risked her bad eye to take a look around the room. Overwatch agents were likewise perched upon different pieces of furniture. Most were crammed together on the couch, with a few outliers on the recliner and a couple of brave souls clutching a bookcase. It took Moira a second to register an embarrassed Winston, Lena, and Morrison sitting atop the wreckage of a broken pool table on the floor.

Directly to Moira’s left Dr. Ziegler sat on the coffee bar looking downright relaxed despite the espresso machine pressed against her side. She placed a hand against her chest and let out a sigh of relief. “Thank goodness! I was afraid you wouldn’t make it! Are you okay, Moira?” 

“Well I’m not dead yet,” Moira muttered as she scanned the floor. She didn’t see any obvious dangers, but that meant nothing. If science has taught her anything it was that there were just as many invisible dangers as visible. “What is the matter? Gas leak? Escaped nanties? The feral cleanbots escaped from the server room once again?”

“Lava,” answered Dr. Ziegler.

“Lava?”

Dr. Ziegler nodded down at the stained carpet as if it explained everything. “The floor is lava.”

Moira searched Dr. Ziegler’s face for even the slightest hint of sarcasm. When none was to be found she turned to the agents around her. They all nodded and gave various grunts to confirm that the floor was lava. Jack Morrison, hero of the Omnic Crisis, Strike Commander of Overwatch, scooted backwards on the broken pool table so the bottom of his jacket wasn’t hanging off the edge. 

“You’re playing ‘the floor is lava,’” Moira repeated, taking care to clearly enunciate each word. Just in case this was all one big misunderstanding.

“For a team building exercise!” Dr. Ziegler pointed at the other door across the room. “We must make it to the other side by trusting and helping our fellow agents. Give me your hand.”

Moira took it, if only in hopes that doing so would bring her closer to coffee. The move from the mini-fridge to the coffee bar was anything but graceful. She wedged the heel of her shoe into a lower cabinet drawer and grabbed onto the espresso machine for support. There was a brief moment of panic when the machine moved, but Moira was saved by Dr. Ziegler reaching out to catch her elbow. 

“Easy! Easy there. Take it nice and slow. Shift your balance to your other leg and...there. Are you stable?” 

“Yes. No. Yes.” Moira sat back against the wall. She could have done without the tower of mugs jammed into her thigh, but at least there was enough room on the bar for the two of them. “Thank you, Dr. Ziegler.”

“You may call me Angela, Moira.”

“And I prefer Dr. O'Deorain, Dr. Ziegler.” She wondered if she should have moved in the first place. There was a reason Dr. Ziegler had the coffee bar all to herself. There were no other pieces of furniture within arm’s reach of their location. In theory one could jump to the over-crowded couch but there was no way another person could fit, much less two. The coffee table was suspiciously empty. Maybe after the loss of the pool table no one wanted to risk another weight issue. The large clearly-never-read book on top did give her an idea.

“What if,” Moira said as she freed her shoe from the drawer handle, “someone makes their way over to the bookshelf--”

Dr. Ziegler’s eyes lit right up. “--And we could use the books and magazines from there as stepping stones! A risky maneuver, but it would be the best way to get all of us out of here! Lena! Can you zip over here?”

“Sorry love!” Lena called from her position on the pool table. “Teleporting is against the rules!” 

“But destruction of Overwatch property clearly is not!” Moira said, fully ignoring Commander Morrison’s note of protest. “We just need to create our own path over to the bookshelf. Any ideas? I say we pull out the cabinet drawers, break them into pieces, and throw them--”

“I got it, I got it!” Moira was cut off by one of the agents on the couch, Torbjorn if she wasn’t mistaken. “Considering I’m the poor bastard that has to fix it, I might as well be the one to break it. Been meaning to replace this piece of trash anyway.” 

With the swing of a wrench Moira didn’t know he even had, Torbjorn smacked the side of the shoddy coffee table and sent it flying toward them in a shower of splinters. The top of the table landed right between the coffee bar and the bookshelf. And against the wall, and over by the broken pinball machine, and evenly spread over the carpet in a fine mist of wood chips. Commander Morrison groaned again. Moira continued to ignore him. 

“I’ll go first. If I don’t make it, please help save the others.” Dr. Ziegler squeezed Moira’s shoulder and, in one graceful, fluid motion, leapt off the coffee bar. She seemed to float gently in the air for just a second before landing on the wooden remains of the table with the grace of a swan. She turned to Moira with her arms outstretched, the light of the TV framing her body in a faint light. “Jump! Don’t worry Moira, I’ll be here to catch you if you fall.”

Moira braced her legs, ready to pounce, knowing that she could trust Dr. Ziegler. Trust. The word bounced around her brain only to smack her metaphorically between the eyes. She shook her head to clear the Overwatch nonsense right out. “What the hell am I doing?”

Dr. Ziegler lowered her arms. “We’re going to form a path, remember?”

“No, we’re not! I’m not! Unlike everyone else here,” Moira gestured at the other agents, “I have important work to do! Getting swept up in this team building exercise for a team I’m not even on is a waste of time! Now if you would excuse me, I’m going to make myself a cup of coffee and get back to--”

The moment her foot hit the floor, Moira felt a sharp sting. She looked down to see what looked to be a dart protruding from her arm. A type of dart she had seen stuck in McCree many times before. Moira lifted her head, her vision already blurring around the edges, and finally noticed Ana sitting on the windowsill with a dart gun in her hands. 

“The floor is lava,” Ana said in a soft, all-knowing tone right as Moira hit the ground, fast asleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Follow my [Tumblr](http://aughtpunk.tumblr.com) for more Overwatch shipping! And don't be afraid to drop a line! I'm lonely! 
> 
> Want to know what happened to Cyber Vale? [Click here!](http://aughtpunk.tumblr.com/post/148519005156/hey-wheres-welcome-to-cyber-vale)
> 
> And check out [My Blog](https://aughtpunk.wordpress.com/) for updates and original fiction!


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